


nightfall

by daemon



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Rewrite, Developing Relationship, Emotional Roller Coaster, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Winter War (Bleach), Slow Build, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemon/pseuds/daemon
Summary: A decade after the war with Aizen, the Soul Society's priorities have shifted to taking care of things left to the wayside during the war. Like repairing the seals between Hueco Mundo and the World of the Living, catching up with the current state of the modern world, and perhaps bringing a certain substitute shinigami back into the fold.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [czar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/czar/gifts).



> Things this AU ignores, but may borrow elements of: all the anime filler arcs, random manga arcs, and the Thousand Year Blood War arc. So pretty much everything after Aizen, with some tweaks to the Aizen storyline in general.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Ichigo was more than a little surprised to find the last person in all the realms he expected to see on the other side of his door. Byakuya Kuchiki gave him a short nod in greeting where he waited across the threshold, his expression mostly empty save for a hint of amusement in his gray eyes. Swallowing back the sudden dryness in his throat, Ichigo stepped aside.

"Uh, come in." Ichigo honestly wasn't sure what to think of the Soul Society's choice in liaison, but he was curious to find out the reasoning.

Byakuya stepped inside and waited for Ichigo to lead him further in. Another thing throwing him for a loop was the outfit on the other man; unlike Rukia's attempts to dress herself and Abarai Renji for their visits, Byakuya had managed to dress well enough he could blend in with ease. The sleek gray blazer brought out his eyes, complimented by a deep navy button-up shirt and black jeans that hugged his long legs, ending in charcoal-colored suede Chelsea boots. The Captain of the 6th Division looked as if he'd stepped out of the latest men's fashion magazines, and if Ichigo was honest with himself, the shinigami looked good— especially with his midnight hair pulled into a loose braid over his shoulder.

It was far too casual an outfit even for the nobleman, but Ichigo would give credit where credit was due. No one would think twice about a man dressed so fashionably and mistake him for an otherworldly being.

The two of them stood in the hall between his entry way and the doorway to rest of the flat, the quiet almost overwhelming as Byakuya took in his modest apartment. It was an open floor plan, with a half-wall separating his bedroom from the general living space; on that same wall was a kitchenette that held two-burner stovetop, small fridge, and just enough counter space for food prep. There were no overhead cabinets, but Ichigo had placed a metal shelf beside the lower cabinet and had stacked his dishes neatly on the top shelf, with a pink pressure cooker on the bottom shelf next to his pans.

"So. They sent you?" Ichigo asked hesitantly, not quite sure how to broached the subject with a man who went from trying to actively kill him and head him off at every turn, to a comrade in arms during the war and tentative friend in the aftermath. _'My, my, how things have changed, King.'_

Gray eyes returned to him, ever calm in the face of a living storm, "More or less, Kurosaki Ichigo." Something in Byakuya's expression shifted, and if Ichigo hadn't spent a lot of time facing the man and sparring with him in and out of Soul Society over the years, he would have missed it, "Or shall I refer to you as Shiba Ichigo?"

Ichigo blinked, absently running a hand through ginger locks, "Please, you can drop the formalities— no reason for them here."

"If I must." Byakuya turned away from him again, instead heading for the sliding glass door.

It meant he missed the slightly pained smile on Ichigo's face. Glancing around, Ichigo was glad he'd spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry; he hadn't been sure who would show up after all.

"You have done well for yourself, Kurosaki—" Ichigo gave him a _look_ that Byakuya ignored of course, "—your family must be proud."

He shrugged, "I can only hope."

Byakuya gave him a short nod at that, and the silence felt significantly less awkward after that.

"So, where do you want to start with this 'modern day education'?" He asked, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching the nobleman gaze out his sliding glass door.

"Since you are the proposed expert in these matters, I must defer to you, Kurosaki."

Well. Shit. Running through every option he could think of, Ichigo thought of one thing that might hold the Kuchiki heir's attention, at least for a little while.

"How do you feel about libraries?"

.

Hours later found the top of them in a private reading room, a low table piled with books, and Ichigo curled up in one of the plush chairs tucked in the corner. He'd attempted to finish some of his own exam readings, but had found the sight of Byakuya engrossed in world history texts far more interesting.

Byakuya had shed the jacket and sharply rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms to the cool room. Old scars caught the light, some more faint than others, and briefly Ichigo wondered at the abilities of Urahara's latest generation of gigai.

"Would you like a break?" The words tumbled from Ichigo's lips before he realized and waited until Byakuya looked up.

"Would you?" Byakuya returned with a slight lift of his brow.

Ichigo smirked at him, "Let me rephrase: we can take some of these back to my place and grab food on the way."

Byakuya stared at him for a moment, "I see."

Ichigo shook his head as they stood and the Captain picked five candidates from the pile for 'light reading'. They returned the rest to the reshelving cart and headed out into the sunshine. By that point it was warm enough for Byakuya to forgo the jacket and sling it over his shoulder with one hand, with the bag of his books in the other. It was strange—and would be for a while—to see the Captain in such a normal setting, and look at ease for once.

They picked up take-out from a local spot Ichigo enjoyed from time to time, and headed back to the ginger's apartment.

.

"Why you?" Ichigo had been itching to ask all day, and now that they were finishing their meal, he hoped the other wasn't too bothered by the question.

Byakuya finished his bite and set his chopsticks aside, seemingly debating his response as he wiped his mouth; "A requirement for this mission was someone ranked high enough to make independent decisions without constant check-ins with Soul Society."

Ichigo frowned, "What about your Division?"

"My Division is in good hands."

Ichigo's brows shot up— was that a compliment from the notorious Prince of Ice? Things have changed indeed. Smiling to himself, Ichigo took a few more bites before he was satisfied enough to feel done, and he was just about to stand and gather their dishes when Byakuya spoke again.

"I took this mission because it was discussed that a familiar acquaintance would put you at ease. As Rukia has been promoted to Vice-Captain and Renji is working to improve his own leadership skills, it was decided that I would be the next best choice."

Ichigo paused, a quiet laugh escaping him unbidden, "You were 'volun-told'."

Byakuya closed his eyes a moment, "Essentially, yes."

Ichigo made a soft noise of amusement as he stood and gathered their plates, "I suppose that makes sense." As he set the dishes in the sink, he looked over his shoulder at the Captain with mild concern, "Are you sure you're okay staying with me for three months? I'm sure Urahara had extra space if you wanted."

Something in Byakuya's expression changed at the mention of the eccentric shopkeeper and Ichigo had to bite back another smile.

"If my presence becomes a burden to you, I will consider it. For the time being, this arrangement is adequate."

Ichigo turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the counter, fingers wrapped around the lip and tapping it idly as he observed Byakuya sitting primly at his small dining table. It was surreal to see the nobleman here and now, and he suspected this particular feeling wouldn't fade anytime soon.

"If you're sure, then we got nothing to worry about."

After that, Ichigo was quick to watch dishes and rejoin the other man at the table.

"Now to plan the next several months," he began, folding his arms on the tabletop with a smile, "is there anything specific you need?"

Despite being asked a direction question, Byakuya was watching him with a curious expression. His gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully, staring at Ichigo as if he was trying to pick him apart and fine comb all the tiniest of details. It was interesting being the focus of that scrutiny, to feel the full weight of this particular shinigami's attention in a way that _wasn't_ murderous intent.

"I am to document the changes of the living world in the last five centuries. Not just how technology has advanced, but how daily life has come to evolve as well, and send reports back to my superiors. From there, they will begin restructuring the training regimens used for any future shinigami that would be assigned here. Urahara will play a part in this as well—a contract of sorts—to produce high functioning gigai for these purposes."

Ichigo absently rubbed a hand up and down his cheek, a slightly pained smile on his face, "And _they_ decided I was to be your guide?"

Byakuya gave a curt nod at that, "Indeed."

"Well. At least they asked me this time."

If he told anyone else that Byakuya Kuchiki actually _snorted_ at him in that moment, no one would have ever believed him.

.


	2. Reconnect

The nightmares always started as sweeter dreams.

Celebrations of the battles they'd won and the near-misses they barely survived; their recovery time spent in the 4th Division—often earning the exasperation and ire of the healers when they tried to party a little too hard in attempts to lighten the sombre mood filling the wards—and fondly remembering the comrades they'd lost over the years.

The war had dragged on for years, and the hope that it would end sooner than later had been a dangerous, fragile thing that few allowed to take root in their hearts. That's when the dreams would twist and darken, turning horrid and gruesome in mere moments— rather than dreams of winning and the relief that followed, they'd lose and the nightmares showcased the grief, fury, and terror that came with it.

Beloved friends and faces that had survived, now dead or dying on the battlefields scattered between three worlds. Old enemies returning and slaughtering humans and souls alike in droves; his family stolen and killed and their bodies kept as Aizen's trophies; his Hollow half overwhelming him and stealing his autonomy, and destroying everything both friend and foe alike.

He fought the nightmares on a regular basis, hardly slept the days he'd wake up in the night with tears streaming down his face, his heart erratic, and his mind racing to anchor itself back in reality. He'd have to drag in his reiatsu in fear of suffocating fellow occupants of his building, or attracting Hollows and having to spend a night fighting them as hard as he fights his own demons.

So far, the presence of Byakuya in his apartment seemed to have kept the nightmares at bay. It's been two weeks of close proximity and while there were some odd mishaps with Byakuya and the day to day aspects of adapting to the living world, Ichigo felt he was doing a good job keeping himself under control and sharing his usually empty space with the other man. It didn't take long for them to find a routine around each other, between Ichigo finishing up his studies and completing his exams, his part-time job, and Byakuya venturing off on his own to explore the town or staying home to read through his ever-rotating library book collection; it was easy for them—easier than expected that is—for them to find a decent rhythm of cohabitation.

But nights like this, when his nightmares ran amuck and he woke in cold sweats trembling with old fears— it was enough to keep him wary of his proximity to the shinigami Captain.

.

Ichigo had his head bent under the faucet of his kitchen sink when the bedroom door clicked open softly, and when he pulled back to let the water stream off his head, he saw Byakuya standing in the doorway. His black hair was sleep-tousled and free of the simple braid he'd taken to keeping it since arriving, he was shirtless and wore loose pj's that hung low on his sharp hips, drawing the eye to the dark hair trailing from his navel and disappearing beneath the waistband. Ichigo found himself staring far too long, forgetting about the running faucet until Byakuya stepped into his space and turned it off.

"I—I'm sorry if I woke you," Ichigo stuttered, running a hand through his wet hair to slick it back from his eyes, "you can go back to… bed… Byakuya?"

It was unprecedented to witness concern written into the shingami's normally stern facade, to feel a smooth thumb gently sweep over his brow to catch a stray droplet. It was so surreal to see yet another new facet to the Captain's unapproachable persona. Almost as if the shinigami _cared_ in that moment.

"Ichigo, you are not well." Byakuya let his hand drop to his side, and Ichigo didn't miss the way it curled into a fist. Nor did he miss the use of his _name_.

He shook his head dismissively, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't sure how to handle this new, emerging side of the nobleman; he was unsure, but there was indeed something like concern filtering through the contained reiatsu brushing against his own.

"Just a nightmare, I'll be alright." He tried to reassure Byakuya, but there was a glint in his gray eyes that belied his disbelief.

Byakuya watched as he pulled another towel from a drawer to finish drying his head, and as he was brushing past Byakuya to toss it in his laundry hamper around the corner, he was a little shocked to feel a sharp burst of irritation aimed at him.

"Come," There was no room for argument as Byakuya stalked out of the kitchenette and across the room to the couch, where Ichigo had made up a bed for himself out of spare sheets and blankets. "Sit," He ordered once Ichigo had trailed after him.

Ichigo couldn't bring himself to protest, stunned as he was by the nobleman's actions and commanding reiatsu filling the small apartment. He thought he'd feel suffocated by the pressure, but instead he felt strangely drawn to that power. Perhaps it was due to being in such close proximity with Byakuya for the last few weeks, and finding himself so comfortable in the man's presence that he didn't mind the spiritual power edging his own.

Unsure of how to proceed, Ichigo sat down and waited. Byakuya watched him, sitting straight-backed with his hands resting on his thighs as if faced with the company of his elders. Ichigo felt… weird, being under the scrutiny of that gaze, because it felt like Byakuya was taking him in, picking him apart—

 _Oh_.

"How long have you had these nightmares?" Byakuya asked, a foreign gentleness in his voice that clashed with the often cold tone Ichigo was familiar with.

Ichigo shrugged, leaning back into the cushions, trying to pass it off as casually as he could despite the heavy subject matter, "Years. Ever since we returned after the war… I've dealt with them well enough on my own. I'm fine."

"Clearly, you are not." Byakuya intoned, a thin brow arching slightly.

Ichigo looked away, not wanting to meet those eyes as they searched for _what_ , he couldn't figure out.

"I would like to share something with you, Ichigo—" Again with his _name_ , "—and I feel as if I must apologize, for it seems that none in Soul Society had the forethought to know the aftermath of the war would affect you in similar ways."

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that, only to nod and allow Byakuya to continue. Byakuya turned to face him, folding one long leg up on the cushion as he did so, and it was such a casual action, an out of place move to witness that Ichigo couldn't pull his eyes off the man as he seemingly relaxed into the cushions and it seemed Byakuya didn't miss that attention either— not if the amusement edging tingling through their edging reiatsu was anything to go by.

"If you'll allow me, I'd like to teach you some meditation techniques to use before bed. If successful in these guided methods, perhaps the nightmares will become much easier to handle for you."

Ichigo took a deep breath as he too moved and sat crosslegged on the couch, facing Byakuya with the same determination he faced everything else in life: head on. It would be hours yet before the other ended the informal lesson and big him goodnight, and though he knew he would be tired the next day, he didn't feel any regrets about it.

.

In the days following their surprise meditation lesson, Ichigo found he'd managed to sleep better little by little. He stopped fighting the nightmares, stopped trying to argue with his subconsciousness and instead let it happen. He let himself sink in the terrible memories of loss and grief, death and carnage; he let himself feel everything again and again, and if he woke up, he'd simply force himself to drink some water, and begin the meditative breathing exercises again until he fell back to sleep. He would wake up less exhausted after, less likely to snap at anyone or be grumpy, and enabling himself to be much more agreeable whenever his friends dragged him and Byakuya out for the day.

That afternoon found them at an arcade and it was silly really, the nostalgia kick it gave them all. The best part of it was the seriousness in which Byakuya took on each new game. Ichigo would give him a brief description of the gameplay, teach him the controls, and feed the machine coins until Byakuya was satisfied he had mastered it himself. This went on for hours, with Ichigo nearly bursting his lungs from laughter once Byakuya managed to get the hang of things and eventually started beating Keigo at every game the brunette challenged him to.

Ichigo's favorite moment of the day was when Byakuya attempted a prize game, mistakenly thinking his skills as a Captain would compensate for the fact that the mechanical claw inside the case was _weak_. Sensing the shinigami's frustration growing, Ichigo stepped in, and with a lighter, practiced touch, managed to grab a stuffed panda holding a giant strawberry and released it into the dispensing pocket.

Byakuya's expression was tight, though something of a childish pout tugged at his lips and Ichigo couldn't stop himself from grinning as he passed the plush over, "There is no logical explanation behind such a futile pursuit," he said, taking the plush from Ichigo's hand and staring at it like it had personally offended him.

(It probably did, honestly.)

Ichigo shrugged as he led the way back to the entrance of the arcade, "There isn't, no. But it's still fun, and the sense of accomplishment after is what truly keeps people coming back to games like that."

Truthfully, Ichigo didn't care about the game. He cared about the emotions peeking into Byakuya's expressions, the pout, the determination, and the fleeting smiles whenever he won a round or managed to figure out whatever secrets he believed the games had. Ichigo found it endearing to see there _was_ a different kind of man behind the harsh façade of the Sixth Division Captain, to know there was someone who _felt_ things despite how much Byakuya tried to deny it.

It was endearing to see, and something about that thought gave Ichigo pause.

As he watched Keigo and Mizuiro tease each other and try to get a rise out of the Captain, he caught the hint of pleasure in the shinigami's eyes; simple, easy, and so _real_ in that moment, Ichigo almost thought it was a trick of the light.

But right then, he knew it was a sight for him and him alone. From the lingering gaze to the slight curve of his lips—

For the second time in weeks, he felt his heart jump in his chest and his throat go dry, and—

 _Oh_.

 _Oh, shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small note, it'll be a while before the next updates, as i'm trying to finish the fic itself and some side stories before i start posting for this au again. thanks for sticking around until then!


	3. Reprieve

It creeps up on him slowly, like an incremental tingle up his spine that likes to take its sweet time swimming up and down the nerve endings of his vertebrae; and the worst part of it is that he _craves_ the sensation.

He wonders at the moments that trigger this waterfall of pleasure that rushes out from his chest, to his nerves, to his brain and spine and every other nook and cranny of his insides. It takes him far too long to let himself admit that each moment, each trickle of this heat and boundless flutter in his guts is triggered by the _looks_ Byakuya gives him.

And it really does feel like water. Like he's stepped under a warm rush of water, a hot shower after the first truly cold, snowy day of winter. It's comforting and relaxing, and he shocks himself back to reality whenever he finds himself sinking into the feeling.

He also knows he needs to get a grip on himself or Byakuya will _figure it out_ , and that is— that's not— _no_ , that can't happen. Not now, not ever. They've slowly reached a tentative peace, a truce that isn't forced by war or nosy siblings. It _happened_ and they managed it by themselves.

He blames it on the proximity. They've been in close quarters for weeks now, he tells himself, they've managed to find some semblance of balance— shared space, shared meals, shared outings. Ichigo gave him a key, because he knew Byakuya wouldn't want to stay cooped up in the apartment while Ichigo was at work, and Byakuya kept him apprised of whatever news sent from Soul Society during his weekly reports, sometimes even reading Rukia or Abarai's goofy letters (if his handwriting was legible, that is).

So yes, it was the proximity. Too much time spent together in his small apartment, not enough opportunities to burn off any excess energy or chances to get out to spend time by themselves. He'd have to think of something and _soon_ , because he wasn't sure how much longer he could hide the frustrations building inside himself, or the little butterflies of warmth that seemed to go wild in his stomach whenever Byakuya was near.

This was fast becoming a _bad idea_.

.

It was hot, his apartment's A/C isn't the greatest, and with blackouts occurring due to the heat rolling through the city, he was already worried about leaving it on in the first place. He'd bought black-out curtains for this reason, taking up a habit of leaving the A/C on at night and hoping to keep as much of the cool air in the apartment throughout the day as possible.

He also blamed the heat on his growing agitation and the resurgence of his nightmares. After weeks of easy sleep, the rising, stifling heat of summer was causing him to loose as much sleep as he'd gained since Byakuya's meditation lessons.

Ichigo sat at his tiny dining table organizing his monthly expenses while byakuya was doing dishes; it was unexpectedly domestic and Ichigo wasn't sure how to handle the sight of Byakuya Kuchiki doing something so mundane—it was amusing at first, but now it was endearing to see Byakuya making the effort to be helpful around the apartment. He shuffled a few more papers around (resolving then and there to switch everything to autopay), and finally just put everything into a neat pile to finish later— he was too distracted by Byakuya.

He thought back to that moment of epiphany, that he was beginning to lose control of his nightmares and sleep was fleeting at beast as he fought his own inner demons and Hollow. The war was long over, but not for him, and it was getting harder and harder to hide the side effects from his 'roommate'. Ichicgo kept his gaze as discreet as possible— _tried_ to, that is— he's sure Byakuya could feel someone watching him from miles away.

Byakuya was wearing one of Ichigo's t-shirts— laundry was also today, they'd have to check it soon— and Ichigo could see the subtle shift of muscle in his back, broad shoulders moving with short, quick motions as he scrubbed each dish. His eyes followed the line of his vertebrae, the slope of his neck exposed by the bun he'd gathered his hair into—the kensaiken removed in his gigai form— and the corner of his jawline, smooth and sharp; all of this coming together in a vision Ichigo had begun memorizing, committing to memory for later. Eventually, Byakuya would leave and Ichigo's quietly growing attraction for the man would never be revealed; for now, he was content simple watching and admiring from afar.

When he was done, Byakuya dried his hands and turned to lean back against the edge of the counter, unintentionally showing off the fine length of his body. Ichigo swallowed the dryness in his mouth and willed himself to drag his eyes away—from the head to toe, Byakuya was handsome and far more attractive than should be _legal_ in any realm— and Ichigo felt himself questioning everything again.

Years ago, Ichigo had come to terms with his sexuality, finding that after years of experimenting with both sexes that it took more than sex and simple affections for him to be with someone— there had to be a deeper connection built over time. The first time Tatsuki listened to him speak of this, she said there was a term for it: demi-sexual, where one needed something deeper than surface attraction and first-impression emotions to be content with someone— it couldn't just be sex and affection, it had to be _more_. It didn't help that his attraction to people was fleeting, he hadn't had any meaningful romantic relationships in years— not since Orihime.

They had tried for years throughout the remainder of high school, after the war had ended and even beyond graduation; but his feelings had changed, faded to mere friendly affection and he couldn't stand holding her back anymore. He told her everything, explained it as best he could, and though he knew it hurt her feelings, she had eventually accepted it. It had taken a few years, but they had finally repaired their friendship and he appreciated her all the more for it.

Now here he was, feeling something surge hotly beneath his skin at the mere sight of Byakuya standing casually in his kitchen.

Snapping himself from his musings, Ichigo started organizing his things to put away with his laptop— all the keep his hands busy and from opening staring at Byakuya. It was difficult, because he could feel the change in the Captain's reiatsu and he belated realized the other shinigami could feel his fluctuating emotions—as well as the spike of appreciation when Byakuya turned around.

Hazarding a look, he caught Byakuya watching him curiously, saw the man's brow slowly rise in question, and Ichigo cleared his throat awkwardly as he stood.

"I— I'll be back. Laundry. Stuff."

Ichigo quickly retreated to his bedroom to tuck away his laptop and paperwork, then immediately darted down the hallway to grab his keys and slip on his shoes to escape the apartment— all the while feeling like an absolute coward for running away from the other man.

_Fuck_.

.

There were more incidents like that, moments of stunned awkwardness that filtered through his reiatsu and filled the general space whenever he was too close to Byakuya. He knew the Captain had caught on, and he tried to contain it, to shove down the feelings he didn't want the other sensing, and making hasty retreats in order to put excessive space between them.

That is, until Urahara had pinned him to the dirt during a sparring session in the basement training grounds to ask him why he wasn't doing this with Byakuya instead.

Ichigo looked away, not even making an attempt to shove the older man off of him, "Uh. I don't— I don't think that's a good idea."

The blonde above him blinked, and poked at his hat to reveal both eyes watching him, "Why not? Seems a good idea to me. You might actually learn something— like how to pay _attention_."

Ichigo glared at him, but there wasn't much heat to it, "It's a bad idea because he tried to help me and I can't focus enough to take his advice when I— when he— just _get off me, old man_."

With a surprised grunt, Urahara was thrown off Ichigo and the ginger sat up, shaking dirt from his hair and patting dust off his robes. Standing, he helped the other off the ground and turned away from the owner's odd stare, heading straight for the springs and and choosing to ignore the former captain as he walked away.

(The downside is the man had a point, and his suggestion wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed after Ichigo had settled down in the springs and let the healing waters sooth him.)

.

"Training?"

"Sparring, but I guess it can be training too."

Byakuya stared at him, his expression blank for the most part. "I see."

Ichigo raked a hand through his hair in mild frustration, doing well to keep the minor flare of annoyance—more at himself than the other man— under wraps. He'd learned well over the years to contain his hot-headed temper and managed to grow out of his impulsive ways.

"Look, we've been cooped up here for weeks and I know that going out sometimes isn't enough to work off excess energy. So… sparring. At Urahara's place. He's got that underground space that he first trained me in beneath his store."

Byakuya seemed to mull it over before he gave a short nod, "You are correct in that simple outings will not always cure restlessness. I must admit that idleness is something I have little patience for."

Ichigo couldn't help a smile at that, "I know that feeling."

The Captain sat up from his spot on the couch and for a brief moment, there was that fleeting quirk of lips that managed to draw Ichigo's eyes no matter what; it was a rare little smile and he found himself treasuring each one Byakuya sent his way.

"Shall we go?"

Ichigo grinned wider, "Why not? I don't think he'd mind at all."

(Urahara didn't mind, _much_ , but not like he'd admit that to the Sixth Captain's face.)

.


	4. Radiate

Their latest weekly session had started easy enough but soon grew with intensity as the hours wore on.

Neither man tired easily, though even with a few years of irregular training with Urahara, Tessai, Sado, and his father, his skills hadn't fallen to the wayside. He could feel the sweat soaking his skin and making his shihakushou uncomfortable to move in, and his muscles were starting to feel a pleasant burn the more they switched up the defense and offense. They darted around the underground chamber after each other like madmen, the echo of swords clashing became a constant in his ears and he found himself grinning the harder they sparred.

They'd agreed not to use their bankai, feeling that was overkill for the chamber and not wanting to cause the devastation they knew they were each capable of. But it was still tempting to unleash that power, to go full bankai and test himself against one of the Seireitei's strongest; he could feel it beneath his skin, Zangetsu felt so alive in his hands—that when all his spiritual energy seeped from his skin into a protective barrier at the same time Byakuya dove for another strike, Ichigo found himself stunned and stumbled back.

The barrage of attacks the 6th Captain unleashed was dispelled when Tensa Zangetsu materialized, his hand catching Byakuya's blade and forcing him back so quickly, Byakuya nearly went flying across the chamber like he weighed nothing.

Ichigo finally shook out of his stupor quick enough to flash-step to his sparring partner's side as the older man stood, "Zangetsu, what the hell—"

The spirit simple looked at him, blue and gold eyes narrowing behind pure white bangs, "It is time to rest, Ichigo."

Between one blink and the next, the manifestation of his soul was kneeling beside him, touching long, slender fingers to his forehead, then trailing down to his chest and pressing against his heart.

"The wards here have begun to fracture, can you not feel it?" Zangetsu asked, eyes sliding over to Byakuya, "You did as well. Do you understand?"

Byakuya frowned slightly as he and Ichigo stood together and Ichigo held out a hand in case he swayed too much. The Kuchiki heir held fast and remained steady, meeting the spirit's gaze without flinching under that piercing gaze.

"I believe Kurosaki has enough self-restraint now that I did not feel threatened nor judge that it was unsafe to continue our session."

Ichigo paused at that, and somewhat withered under the glare of his zanpakto's stare, "It's fine. If Zangetsu thinks I should stop for the day, then let's end it."

He forced a smile then, one somehow both cocky and reassuring, "We'll call it another draw, for now, yea?"

Byakuya gave a short nod at that and moved away towards the ladder. Ichigo didn't follow just yet, and instead turned to the spirit beside him and giving him a confused look, brows furrowing as he tried to phrase his question before he spoke it. Luckily, the zanpakto beat him to it.

"Your own turbulent emotional state concerning the Captain has awakened the Hollow. You must regain your balance again, Ichigo, before you continue this charade."

With that, Tensa Zangetsu faded away, returning to his inner world once more. Ichigo could do nothing more than gape in disbelief at the spot he once stood.

_Well_. _Shit_.

.

The next day, when Byakuya received his latest news report from Soul Society and shared the updates with Ichigo, he also shared a theory with him. In recent months, Hollow activity had increased, the creatures themselves becoming more unruly, with new twisted and strange evolutions of them appearing and breaking through the barriers. Shinigami on the other side had reported their attempts to break into the Living World, the determination in the Hollows reaching a strange point of desperation they had never witnessed before.  
  
Byakuya's theory suggested that whatever was affecting those coming from Hueco Mundo was also affecting Ichigo's own and that perhaps they should cut down their sparring sessions to a mere couple of hours, rather than keep them all-day affairs.

"I could return and gather more information if you like." Byakuya offered once he'd finished his explanation, settling back into the couch across from Ichigo.

"No, it's okay. I'll just have to be more careful for a while until we find out more." Ichigo tossed a tired smile in his direction, "But I don't want to stop our session. It's a good workout and it's fun."

Byakuya eyed him for a moment, then gave a short shake of his head, "If you wish."

.

That night, Ichigo dreamed again.

The dream is familiar and painful, and all too real to his damaged psyche. But he needs to do this, needs to learn how to accept that the past is in the past, and it will never change. He's done it before after the death of his mother, if he could come to terms with that as a child, he could do this now. Ichigo forced himself to breathe, pacing himself through the exercises Byakuya taught him and hoping to slip into sleep as quickly as he could.

It's difficult, and it takes him an hour, but eventually, he manages to fall asleep.

He cycles through the memories as they turn to nightmares, moments of triumph turned to brutal losses, fallen allies dying brutally in different ways than the first, and he bore it, letting his mind work through it all and doing his best to accept it and move on through the nightmares.

But nothing about the last of his dreams would change, nothing could twist the moments that ended the war once and for all.

.

He opens his eyes again to a new memory— the moment he shoved his hand into Aizen's chest and his other gripped the man's zanpakto.

He could hear the inhuman roar of Aizen's Hollow form, and deeper still, he felt the cry of desperate relief from the weapon trapped in his hold. That is when he felt it, the slow stop of existence around him, the frozen state of the universe as everything went quiet; the wind stopped, crumbling rock formations paused in mid-air. Ichigo felt a familiar pull then, one similar to when he sank into his own inner world, and Ichigo closed his eyes to heed the call.

The world he enters is dark, filled with an overwhelming emptiness. There is no light, no grey, nothing. It's cloying and sickening to find such an unfathomable void.

He starts walking forward, feeling weak of spiritual energy coming from the direction he's headed, and eventually sees the familiar purple glow of the Hougyoku in the short distance. When he reaches it, he finds something else, another figure washed in its soft light, and he realizes the figure is crumbling little by little. Soft cracks spiderweb up thin arms and a torso that looked half-devoured by the endless darkness; long, dark brown hair spilled over small, bony shoulders and flat chest, and milky, blind eyes lifted to gaze up at him with the same sadness he'd felt the moment he touched Aizen's zanpakto.

_Ah_. _That's it_.

He knelt before her as she held a hand out to him, her sewn lips curving into a broken smile. Taking it filled him with memories and emotions, so many overwhelming thoughts and feelings of a man lost to his obsession, a man who'd given himself to his end game. There was a feeling of hope coming from the dying spirit, of a wish for the pain to stop.

_"She asks for forgiveness."_ Beside him, Zangetsu knelt as well, his pale figure the only light in the void, _"She too, wishes for the end of this."_

"I know." Ichigo moved forward, reaching a hand out to brush dark bangs from her face, "I'm sorry." His fingertips carefully skimming the cracks spreading up her neck and across her face, and feeling shock permeate from her at his gentle actions as he leaned in and hugged her close, "He's hurting both of them..."

He felt so much sorrow, so much _anger_ towards Aizen for not only trying to destroy everything in existence, for trying to destroy the boundaries between life and death, but also his own soul and the one thing that tried to protect him in the end.

_'I'm sorry.'_

Her other hand came up and she opened her fist to reveal a second Hougyoku, it's power flaring the moment she did so and he knew then what she had done. Aizen's zanpakto had been holding back the Hougyoku's power and it was killing her to do so, and now— she offered it to Ichigo, a pleading expression on her face as she pushed it towards him. Ichigo hesitated, fully aware of what she was giving him, as well as how quickly she was decaying and losing herself to this darkness.

_"Ichigo. Are you sure about this?"_ Zangetsu watched him as he held his hand out toward the device.

"I need to stop him." He replied, smiling at Zangetsu with almost as much determination as he'd seen when they fought in the Dangai. "If this is what he truly wants, then I'll give it to him."

Ichigo took the Hougyoku in hand and closed his fist around it, and felt the power of it surge around him, but he paid it no heed, and instead looked at the spirit of the soul before him, as her body broke down and the last thing on her disintegrating face was a smile of relief.

_Thank you—_

_For saving him—_

_When I could not—_

The last of her faded away and the inner world around them began to tremble as the void shattered; once again returning them to the reality.

.

Ichigo woke with a gasp to the sheets drenched beneath him and Byakuya standing at the end of the couch, a worried frown etched into his features. He sat up, rubbing a hand down his face and trying to breathe through the slight panic, before he dragged the sheets and blanket out of the way and Byakuya sat gingerly beside him. There was a tense moment, of the two staring at each other warily, before the tension seemed to leave the younger man as he slumped forward, face dropping in his hands.

"Are you alright, Ichigo?"

Ichigo shook his head half-heartedly, "Just— nightmares. Again. But I think your advice is working. It's been easier to deal with them."

Byakuya was still watching him, he could feel that gaze on him, "I am glad. You should go back to sleep, there is still enough time for you to rest."

"Not yet, not—" Ichigo lifted his head and reached for a corner of his blanket to wipe his face and neck dry of sweat, making a face as he did so, "—I might shower first if you don't mind."

"Ichigo." Byakuya's hand appeared in his peripheral vision and set tentatively upon his shoulder, "Perhaps sleeping in your own bed the rest of the night might help."

Glancing over at Byakuya, he took in the earnestness on his face, yet he still saw that worry, the concern that he rarely expected to find in the shinigami. Smiling wanly, Ichigo shook his head, taking the hand from his shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go. Byakuya watched as he stood and had barely shuffled by him when the Captain grabbed his hand suddenly, and those gray eyes were looking up into his so intently, Ichigo felt his face heat up for _other_ reasons.

"I hope that one day, these dreams will not haunt your sleep as they do now."

"Thanks." Ichigo smiled, "With your help, maybe they'll be easier to handle."

After that, Ichigo pulled his hand free to wander off towards his bathroom. Byakuya sat alone on the couch in the quiet after, eyes on his hand and the warmth of Ichigo's hand fading from his palm. Something deep down flared to life in his chest and a small part of him wished that warmth would remain.

.

**Author's Note:**

> (brewpub @ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/brewpub) & [dw](https://brewpub.dreamwidth.org))


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